The Man Out Of Time
by elenwyn
Summary: Peter meets Claire for the first time when he's 24 years old and she is 15. She meets him when she is 6 and he is 25, which would be impossible...if Peter hadn't acquired the ability to time travel. Multi-chap fic based on The Time Traveler's Wife.
1. Prologue

**A.N: **Mmkay, this fic is it. It's my baby. I've been working on it since last summer, changed it a hell of a lot and, yeah. It's based on _The Time Traveler's Wife_ mixed in with canon Heroes verse, aside from the fact that Peter and Claire are not related, just because if they were related on top of everything else, it would be hella confusing. If anyone has read the book, you'll realise the format is similar. I hope you guys enjoy it, like I said, it's my baby. Updates will be a little slow to start, 'cause my exams are starting this week, but I don't think they'll be too long to wait. Betaed by the wonderful Winter Sapphire!

**Warnings/Spoilers: **Set in an AU S1 timeline. Possible references to the future episodes from S3. No spoilers for S4. And Paire are not related in this one, folks!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Heroes. And every illusion to the Time Traveler's Wife is Audery Niffenenegger's, not mine. If it wasn't for her book and Kring's show, this story wouldn't exist.

**Summary:** Peter meets Claire for the first time when he's 24 years old and she is 15. She meets him when she is 6 and he is 25, which would be impossible...if Peter hadn't acquired the ability to time travel. Unable to control his powers, he travels to her past and his future - but can he still save the cheerleader and save the world?

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"_**Long ago, men went to see, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. Now I wait for Henry. He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow?" – **__Clare, __The Time Traveler's Wife._

_Sunday, November 15th, 2009. (Peter is 25 and 29, Claire is 19.)_

_Peter_

When I came to, I could hear the distinct tones of Edith Piaf floating throughout the house...whatever house I'd managed to end up in. That was the problem with trying to keep control of my powers; I'd never know where I'd end up, or _when_ I'd end up. It was all a game of chance, and it was remarkably unfortunate that I was just about to jump in the shower when Hiro's teleportation had hit.

Yep, I, Peter Petrelli had been teleported, stark naked, into someone's house...though I had a good idea who's.

As if on cue, I heard a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the room I'd wound up in – a kitchen, I'd suddenly noted, a kitchen with the distinct smell of cakes and pine, cluttered and yet cosy. Well, at least this time we had a working kitchen.

"Peter, Jesus! Put some clothes on, I'm hypothetically blushing standing here."

I felt her smirk as I turned around, "I was about to get in the shower, sue me."

Claire Bennet continued to grin, raising one eyebrow, her emerald eyes glittering with mirth as she surveyed my body and, though I didn't mind, I suddenly felt like I was being studied like a piece of meat.

"Quit it," I muttered, only pretending to be irked, subconsciously moving my hands over certain areas so they were blocking the view.

"Make me," She retorted, then, "Where're you from this time?"

"April, 06. Last time I saw you, you were 10, so 'scuse me if this feels more than a little creepy."

Claire relented, letting a soft blush cloud across her cheeks as she looked down. "I'll fetch you some clothes from upstairs. You never mentioned you'd be around today."

I didn't bother telling her it was probably because I couldn't remember where I'd wound up from one day to the next, as she was already halfway up the stairs. I found myself humming to the Frenchwoman's lyrics as I waited for Claire to return, the only embarrassment I feared was someone unexpected bursting through the door at any second and finding me naked in Claire's kitchen, which would involve a lot of explaining that I didn't really have the energy, or patience, to go into.

Thankfully, Claire returned rather quickly, probably sensing my discomfort, and I gave her a smile as I slipped the clothes over my head. They were slightly baggy; a sign they were her father's clothes, and I registered the fact that this wasn't _our_ house after all, and that the family had moved, yet again, in my brain.

The thought of bumping into Noah Bennet naked in his family home sent unpleasant thoughts through my mind, the man didn't like me on a good day – I suppose it comes from being ten to twenty years older than his daughter at any given time – and he knew how to use a _gun_. This made me appreciate Claire's hastiness even more.

"What year is it?" I asked as I was tying my shoelaces. I'd tried to distinguish the date while I was waiting, but nothing in the homely kitchen gave anything away and, well, Claire hadn't aged a day since she was nearing seventeen, so that didn't help, either. Her hair was blonde this time though, so that meant she was younger than the last time I'd ended up in the future.

"It's November 23rd, 2009," She answered, placing a soft kiss on my cheek as soon as I stood upright. "You look worn out."

"Tell me about it," I grumbled, deciding this was the perfect time to pull her close and breathe in her scent. "Nathan's being a pain about the whole election thing – he won't listen to me."

"He will," She soothed, wrapping her arms around my neck a little tighter than she usually did. I guessed things must be going on in our lives right now; she seemed to crave as much physical contact as I did, which wasn't always the case. Claire sometimes seemed to be under the impression that she was cheating on me, which was ridiculous, as I was me. I wondered where Future!Me was right now; there was a subtle sadness in Claire's body language that almost made me ask, but I relented.

"He's still an asshole though," I concurred, and Claire giggled into my neck, the vibrations spreading pleasantly down my chest and collarbone. "Wherever or whenever I am, he's an asshole."

"An asshole that loves you," She pulled back from me, pecking me quickly on the lips before sashaying over to the oven, just as an egg-timer rang out, "I've been cooking, you hungry?"

As a matter of fact, I was. I'd been up the night before studying for my nursing exam – something Nathan still liked to call a 'girly' course to take – and ended up flitting in and out of sleep, eventually waking up on my couch with an incorrigible pain in my back. (It had disappeared as soon as I'd woken up properly, thanks to Claire's power, but that's beside the point.) That's when I'd decided to clean up and get a shower, which had then resulted in me being here. It probably served me right; I was thinking about Claire and usually thinking about Claire consequentially makes me end up wherever Claire is, though she's not always this, well, grown up.

"Starving," I replied, taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs nearby. "You _can_ cook now, right?"

She shot me a look and I put my hands up in defence. "I was just asking; you tried to make me cupcakes the other day – they were, how should I say this…very un-cupcake like and tasted like I'd just stuck my head up a fireplace."

Claire snorted, "My cupcake days are over, thanks to you. Don't think I didn't notice the uneaten ones you left in the bin. I gave up my dream to become a famous chef that day."

"Nice to know I destroyed your dreams." I grinned as she stuck her tongue out at me. "I think I did the world a favour, we'd all be dying of food poisoning if you'd pursued that."

She bent over to pull a casserole from inside the oven. "No one complains of my cooking nowadays," she stated, "Though now I suppose I'll be more mindful when Lyle doesn't clear his plate."

I laughed and opened my mouth to speak, but I could feel that now familiar whirling inside my stomach, and Claire's form was beginning to get fuzzy.

"I'll have to skip food, I'm afraid," I rushed to say, as she turned around to meet my eyes. "You'll see me again sooner or later."

"I lov –"

My powers were decidedly rude in bringing me back to the present at that moment. Nevertheless, I knew what she was going to say.

The scenery changed around me, the future melding into the present and I found myself back in my small, tiled bathroom; exactly where I'd been before I left.

I sighed, walking through the door and eyed the mounds of notes still strewn across my coffee table and the living room floor ominously. If anyone wanted to know, my life was one big, complicated _mess._

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	2. Be Still My Heart

**A.N: **Here's the second installment of my fic. I've finished planning the whole thing now and it will be 13 chapters long. This chapter really starts the story going, so to speak. I hope people don't get too confused with the time-jumps! xD Also, I've switched to present tense 'cause I think the story flows better like that, heh. Thanks to Winter Sapphire for betaing, and I don't own Heroes, The Time Traveler's Wife or any of the song-lyrics included in this chapter! Enjoy!

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_Chapter 1 – 'Be Still My Heart'_

_---_

_Thursday, 24th November, 2005. (Peter is 24. Claire is 15.)_

_Peter_

_---_

_~I could not recall a more perfect fall_

_'Cause when I looked up into your eyes, it didn't hurt at all._

_And I thought, be still my heart, this could be a brand new start, with you.~_

---

I am leaving Starbucks café with a double-espresso in one hand and my cell in another, sighing with frustration as Nathan's angry voice bombards my ear-drums.

"Nathan, I'm not joking, I really think this time I can –"

A small body slams into mine, cutting off my conversation, and both my coffee and cell clatter to the floor. Well, the cell does, anyway.

The coffee has spilt all over the top of teenage girl, and I swear inwardly. "I'm really sorry," I apologised.

"No, it's alright," She cuts through my speech with an awkward laugh, getting a tissue out of her bag to mop the stain up. Luckily, it's a dark top. "I wasn't looking where I was…"

The girl trails off, her eyes suddenly searching with mine with recognition. "Peter?

I blink; this girl knows my name? I study her for a moment; blonde hair cascading down her back in waves, green eyes that sparkle and a smile that instantly makes my lips want to quirk upwards as well.

"…Do I know you?" I ask, picking up my cell phone from where it has landed on the pavement. The line is dead; Nathan has obviously put the phone down.

The girl bites her lip, and I wonder if I've upset her in some way, she seems to think she genuinely knows me when, in fact, I've never met her before in my life.

"You said this might happen," she mutters, and my eyes widen but, before I can respond, she continues, "You have the power to teleport, right?"

I falter in my reply, not quite knowing how to answer. I don't know what she means by 'teleport', so how can I? Thankfully she answers her own question, shaking her head and making her curls bounce softly against her shoulders.

"No, no, this must be before…" She stops, glancing up and flashing that smile again that makes me instantly feel more at ease. "I'm Claire," she finally states, holding out her hand for me to shake.

"Erm, Peter," I answer, gripping her much smaller hand gently in my own. "But I guess you kinda knew that?"

"Lucky guess," Claire bushes my comment off. "I thought you were…someone else. I guess you're not."

Silence engulfs us for a moment, though I don't know whether I can call it awkward. I study the remains of the polystyrene that had once held my coffee with mournful eyes, and the girl follows my gaze.

"Sorry about that," she grimaces, biting her lip. "I could get you another one if you want?"

"No, no," I immediately answer; I can't ask this young girl to do that. It won't be fair. "I was being clumsy, entirely my fault."

Another pause; I contemplate phoning Nathan back – he probably thinks I've hung up on him, which will definitely not be the way to put him in a good mood.

"Are you here on your own?" I ask, suddenly realising that it isn't a good idea for a girl as old as Claire – how old is she, fifteen, sixteen? – to be wandering around the streets of the city by herself.

"Oh, no," she replies, smiling a little more, "I'm with my family. We're on vacation for Thanksgiving. I just…a friend told me this part of the city was nice, so I decided to take a look for myself."

I grin, about to comment that, even though this part of the city is nicer than the others – I should know, my mother's mansion lies not 500 yards from where we are standing – it really isn't a place she should look round by herself, when a tall-ish man with horn-rimmed glasses walks up behind us at a fast pace.

"Claire, is this man bothering you?" He questions, eyes suddenly on me, and I half expect Homeland Security to come down on me at that second, and I haven't done anything.

"No, Dad," Claire admonishes, placing a hand on her father's shoulder to calm him down. "This is Peter. I accidentally ran into him and spilt his coffee."

Horn-rimmed-glasses guy harrumphs, his gaze staying on me for a moment longer. "Your mother wants to stop by this dog-store she saw a few streets back, apparently there are collars in there that Mr. Muggles would 'die for'."

Claire gives me an apologetic glance as her father starts to walk away, stopping a few paces after when he realises she hasn't followed. "Claire!"

Before I can protest, she takes my phone out of my hand and punches a few numbers in; at the time I never questioned how she knew how to work my phone so easily.

"Here's my number, you'll need it," She says mysteriously, tossing me another smile and turning on her heel before I can say anything in reply.

I glance once at my empty coffee cup, and once at my phone, which still has Claire's number on the screen.

Well, this is going to be an interesting experience to share with my brother.

---

_Thursday, 17th July, 1997. (Claire is 7, Peter is 25.)_

_Claire_

_---_

_~ "I don't know why the leaves change in the fall, I know you're not scared of anything at all._

_Don't know if Snow White's house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today."~_

Peter has come to see me today while Georgia is babysitting me. Well, she isn't really babysitting me; she is talking on the phone a lot and laughing. Mom and Dad have gone to this party barbeque thing that I'm not allowed to go to, which annoys me a little. I mean, I _am_ seven now. I'm practically a grown-up.

Lyle is in his room playing stupid video games, I can hear banging through the ceiling when he gets a 'game over' – boys are _so_ immature.

So while Georgia is busy going crazy over something – she keeps saying, "Oh my God, shut up!" a lot, I can't tell if she was upset – I go to the orchard behind my house with my Rapunzel Barbie doll and her tower. I put the tower in the branches of the big tree and have Prince Ken ride up it on his horse to save her. Although, I don't think horses can climb trees in real life, but this one can.

Suddenly, just when Rapunzel is about to ride off with Prince Ken, I hear a thump on the grass nearby, and Peter is lying in the long grass with dust all over him. I giggle 'cause he looks funny, and he gives me a look that made me laugh more as he stands up and brushes the dust off him.

"What're you doing out here by yourself, Claire?" He asks. He is frowning and that makes me frown too.

"'M only here. Mom 'n' Dad are out. Georgie's babysittin' me but she doesn't do a very good job."

"She definitely doesn't if she lets you out here on your own," Peter comments, sitting cross-legged underneath the tree and looking up at Barbie's tower. "Horses can't climb trees."

"This one can," I retort, making the white horse gallop up and down the bark to prove it to him. "And 'm not a baby. I'm _seven_."

He puts his head to one side then, as if he is figuring out something, "What date is it, Claire?"

I bite my lip and think, counting the days since school ended. That's when I remember I have to tell Peter I got a certificate and a bar of chocolate for coming top in Math class, and that Jackie Wilcox and me aren't friends anymore 'cause I'd pulled her hair on the way to the lunch hall, but only 'cause she stepped on Kerrie Jones' foot _on purpose_.

So I tell him, and he grins about the Maths bit, but doesn't seem too pleased about the Jackie thing. "You shouldn't do things like that, Claire."

"She deserved it." I fold my arms. Sometimes Peter can sound like my dad, and I don't like it when my best friend sounds like my dad. "It's 17th July tuh-day," I add, suddenly remembering the question.

"And you're seven...so that means the year's '97..." he mutters, before tugging at the bangs at the side of his head in a kinda frustrated way.

"Don't do that." I got up from my spot, jeans dusted with dirt, and go over to him, pulling his hands away. "I like your hair."

Peter seems to think this is funny and starts to laugh. I sit down next to him and we start talking about what had been happening, playing noughts and crosses in the dusty ground where there isn't any grass. I am crosses, 'cause I like that they look like the kisses you put on a card, and Peter only wins five times this time.

"You're getting better," he mentions as I win for the second time, and I grin.

"Oh, look!" I exclaim, pointing to the gap between two teeth at the top of my mouth. I've lost another baby tooth – Mom says that every time you lose a baby tooth, you get a little more grown up.

"Did you put it underneath your pillow?" Peter asks, bending his head down slightly so he can get a better look.

I nod. "Uh-huh, and I got two whole dollars from the Tooth Fairy. Momma said I musta been real good to get them."

"That would make a change."

My eyes widen and I stick my tongue out at him. Peter is always teasing me like this. I don't mind, 'cause I know he doesn't mean it nastily.

The sun is beginning to move downwards now; I can tell 'cause the shadows of the trees have changed and my stomach is getting hungry. I yawn, and Peter puts an arm around me so I can put my head near to his shoulder. I'm not quite tall enough to reach his shoulder yet.

"D'you have t' go back soon?" I ask, happy that my best friend is here with me. I mean, when you have to cope with three weeks of Lyle the Lunatic and Mr. Muggles and a lot of time when you've got nothing to do 'cause you've played with like, all your toys, you'd be glad he is here too.

"I dunno," He murmurs, "I don't really get to decide when I go back."

I frown then. "That sucks."

Peter laughs, and I can feel his laughter go through my body too. "Yeah, it does."

I used to think Peter was an angel, 'cause he used to come out of nowhere, and he only came to me. But then I found out he's a man with a confusing thing that makes him appear at different places when he doesn't really want to go. He says it is something to do with not being able to control his abilities, and it's kinda like being one of the X-Men on my TV show, but I don't really get it. He says I will soon, and I don't get that either.

That's when I hear Georgia call me from the back garden to come in for dinner, otherwise my parents will kill her, and I know I have to go. I sigh 'cause I don't really want to go and climb into Peter's lap to give him a hug.

"Will you be here tomorrow?"

"I don't know, Claire," he answers, hugging me back before helping me stand up.

"Are you hungry? We've got cobbler fer dinner, I could sneak ya some."

Peter nods. "If I'm not here though, it means I've gone, but thank you anyway."

I grin. "I hope I see you soon, before I go back to school. I'll be in 2nd grade!"

He smiles back, but it isn't a really big smile like he usually does. He looks kinda sad, and I don't know why, so I hug him again. Mom always says hugs make people feel better.

Georgia calls me again and I can tell she is getting angry, so I unwrap my arms from him and look up at Peter's face. "I'll see you soon." I hate it when I have to leave him; sometimes I wish Peter could just stay with me forever.

"Hopefully," he replies, leaning down to kiss me on the forehead and ruffle my hair, which I hate 'cause then it's all messed up and my curls fall around my face. I frown as he laughs. "See you around, squirt."

I pick up my dolls and run inside and Georgia tells me off for being late and getting mud on my jeans. She sighs and says I really should act like more of a proper girl otherwise I'd never get a boyfriend. I say I don't need a boyfriend 'cause I have Peter, and then Lyle pokes his head round the kitchen door and says Peter is my imaginary friend.

I wait till we're at the table and Georgia is talking on the phone again, and then I pull Lyle's hair _really_ hard, harder than I had with Jackie, "Peter's not imaginary, dumbo. He's _real_."

But Lyle just starts to cry and I get sent upstairs without any pudding, but it's okay 'cause I still sneak some cobbler into my jeans pocket when Georgia isn't looking. It's a bit squished, but I know Peter won't mind.

I sneak downstairs a little later and pass where Georgia is sitting on the couch and through the kitchen door, but when I get to the orchard Peter has already gone. I sigh and sit down underneath the tree again, nibbling on the cobbler 'cause Peter isn't around to eat it anymore.

Sometimes I really wish Peter could stay around longer, then I can prove to Lyle he's real. But I don't feel like sharing my angel with anyone, especially not my silly little brother. He's only five, anyway.

---

_Thursday, 24th November 2005. That evening. ( Claire is 15, Peter is 24.)_

_Claire_

I can hardly believe my luck; I bumped into Peter today. I mean, I know he lives in the area; we've talked extensively about where his mother lives, how grandiose she is, how his brother is going to run for New York Senator next year, but I never thought I'd actually _find_ him.

Of course, it's not really _my_ Peter...not yet. This Peter doesn't know anything about me, doesn't know he had powers. I wonder how long it'll be before he finds out...

"Claire-bear, your mother asked you a question."

I'm shaken from my thoughts with a stern look from my dad, and on the other side of the table, my mother is looking at me expectantly.

"Sorry, what?"

My mother sighs. "Sometimes I wonder about you, Claire. I asked you what you got up to today. You dad told me you…met someone?"

"Typical," my brother pipes up from my mom's side. "You always flirt with guys."

"Shut up, twerp," I glare, "And I wasn't flirting. I bumped into him and spilt his coffee, I apologised and we talked, it was nothing."

My father raises an eyebrow at me, a certain expression in his eyes that scares me suddenly. Does he know about Peter? No, he can't have...he's never met him before, I've never talked about him, stopped after I was eight and my mom said I was too old for imaginary friends anymore.

My mother, on the other hand, lets out a girlish squeal that any of the bimbos in my class would be proud of, causing other people in the restaurant we are sitting in to give us looks and Lyle to cringe in his seat. "What was he like, sweetie?"

"Mom." I dead-pan. "He was ten years older than me...I mean, I guessed he was. That's gross."

The uncomfortable feeling in my stomach continues to grow; if my parents knew the way I really feel about Peter, they'd probably go into cardiac arrest, especially when I told them about his 'problem.'

"Think I could go back up to the hotel room?" I ask. "I'm exhausted."

With my parents giving the ok, I grab the key to the room I share with Lyle (the joys of being an older sister) and find the nearest lift. As soon as I get in the suite I grab my phone, fingers itching to text Peter's number.

See, he doesn't know I already had it. My Peter had given it to me about two months ago, saying it was from his old phone and he'd tell me when I could use it. But I know I can't text him now, I have to wait for him to get in touch with me, that's how Peter says it has to happen.

Sighing, I lie down on the bed, counting the speckles in the ceiling. Sometimes all this business with Peter is confusing, no, not sometimes, _all _the time. His powers mean he's never around when I want him to be, and he's never where he wants to be either. The ability he's picked up from this guy called Hiro is difficult to control...he told me once he's only been able to time-travel for a year, which I thought absurd at the time. I mean, I've known him since I was six years old, but it kind of makes sense to me now that I've seen him before he got his power.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes. I grab it, anticipation building inside of me, hoping it's him and not Jackie or Zach:

_Why did you say I'd need your number? –Peter_

I grin, butterflies erupting in my stomach when I don't mean them to. I can't help it; even though this isn't the Peter I'm used to, it's still my Peter, and the feelings I have when it comes to him are hard to suppress.

_Because…_

I frown, hesitating over what to type. Then I remember something Peter told me when I'd asked him why he always time-travels to where I was.

_Because it's destiny. C x_

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	3. Across The Universe

**A.N** Here's the next chapter, everyone! Thanks to everyone so far that's read, reviewed, or put this story on alert, it means a lot :) Betaed as always by Winter Sapphire, who does an amazing job. Enjoy! And review if you can!

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_Chapter 2 – 'Across The Universe'_

_Monday, February 14th, 2012. (Claire is 21, Peter is 31 )_

_Claire_

_---_

_~"We're not the same, dear, as we used to be,_

_The seasons have changed, and so have we." ~_

_---_

"Some Valentine's Day," I mutter to myself, wrapping my leather jacket tighter around me.

_Some place for a date too,_ I think absentmindedly, checking the time on my cell and tapping my foot impatiently. Where the hell is he?

The sun set around an hour ago, moonshine illuminating the grey, metallic walls of the factories in the industrial area we said we'd meet in. Remnants of the winter cold are carried in on the wind; blowing clouds so the moon's rays are blocked sporadically, sending my world into complete darkness. As my eyes struggle to adjust to the dim light, I hear footsteps crackling on the gravel behind me, and my hand immediately goes to the gun in my jeans pocket.

"It's me," he whispers, and I whip myself around to face him.

"You're late," I answer dryly, letting my fingers still hang loosely around the weapon I carry with me.

A burst of light shines through the clouds and I see his face, his scar illuminated in a most macabre way. I reach up a hand to trace it, but his glare stops me.

"We should get moving," Peter says, turning away from me and beginning to trudge back the way he had come.

I sigh, running a little to catch up with him, falling into stride. These days, Peter is always on his guard, always ready for a fight, and nearly always silent.

I cast side-ways glances at him as we are walking along; trying to glean some sort of idea as to the mood he's in. Thanks to the power of telepathy, I am an open book, though he always swears he never uses it on me; Peter on the other hand, is harder to read.

"So…" I venture, "Why are we after this guy again?"

"Because he could suffocate the entire population of the world if he put his mind to it?" He answers, his tone of voice telling me I've asked a stupid question.

"Right," I said, biting my lip. I had glanced briefly over the guy's file before we left the Company, something about atmospheric distortion, but I hadn't really paid attention. Judging from the mood Peter is in, I probably should have.

We walk a little more in silence, and after a few minutes, I sigh again, rather dejectedly.

Sensing my discomfort, Peter's hand reaches out for mine and grasps it, and I feel myself relax instantly. This life we're leading, the Company, Pinehearst, chasing after bad guys, it gives us hardly any time to simply be together, and we've both changed a lot. Some times I don't see him for weeks, no contact at all. It leaves me wondering what we have left of our relationship.

A movement out of the corner or my eye catches my interest. "I think we've got our man." I mutter, reaching for the tazer in my other pocket.

"I'm already on it," Peter replies from next to me, slipping into the darkness to intercept the figure now trying to move silently to safety.

I wait where I am, hidden behind one of the corrugated iron walls of a factory, until I hear a cry. I'm about to move forward when I feel the air being sucked out from my body. My throat constricts painfully, and I gasp, trying to breathe. The problem is, there isn't any air. It has gone, and I'm left floundering. Indestructible I might be, but if I can't breathe…

My vision beginning to blur, I grit my teeth and run towards where I'd heard the noise. Peter lies prone on the ground, and my heart jolts painfully. The guy causing all this trouble stands near him, mouth wide open, a vortex of air swirling like a tornado into his body.

Thinking quickly, I do the only thing I can do before he notices I'm there. I reach for my gun, take aim and fire. Almost instantaneously, the man drops to the floor, a small trail of blood dripping from the wound in the side of his head.

I hear Peter stir behind me and I gulp down the returning oxygen thankfully, still holding the gun. It's always a shame when targets are taken down…but in a situation like this, there is no alternative.

"I could have handled it," comes Peter's gruff voice, looking down distastefully at the body in front of us.

"Yeah, from what I saw you were handling it pretty well," I reply, sarcasm laced in my words. I turn on my heel, not wanting to vent my frustrations out loud.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He follows me, looking as annoyed as I feel.

"You!" I answer, "You always think you can handle things by yourself, that you don't need help. Well, judging from that, and God knows how many times before, you can't. You need to let me get involved –"

"I _do_ let you get involved!" He retorts, "We're partners –"

"I wasn't just talking about work," I reply, quieter now. That remark turns him silent for a while and we carry on walking, Peter running a hand through his hair before beginning to speak.

"Claire –"

"I don't want to hear it," I snap, feeling a headache starting, "I'm tired of this, Peter. I'm tired of being kept in the dark when it comes to you, to us."

The words shock even myself to say them out loud. It's true I've been thinking about this for a while now, but to actually voice my thoughts is another matter. I glance down at the now-worn wedding band on my finger. The silence that follows my words is almost unbearable, and I choke back a sob.

"I'm sorry, Peter," I whisper, "I don't think I can do this anymore."

_---_

_Friday, November 25th, 2005. (Peter is 24, Claire is 15.)_

_Peter_

_---_

_~ "I've just seen a face I can't forget, the time and place that we just met."~_

_---_

If I'd had told anyone at that moment that I'm texting a 15 year old girl, they probably would have given me funny looks and decided I deserve to be locked up. But it's nothing like that; Claire just intrigues me. We meet by chance and she says it's destiny? And why does she already know who I am? (I'm not buying this whole 'you look like someone I know' excuse, she genuinely _knows _me).

I've tried to get some kind of information out of her during our conversations yesterday evening, but the more I talk to her, the less I care about why she knows me. Yes, she's young, but she's more mature than I've thought a usual 15-year old could be, and we have a lot in common. We both have an interest in medicine; I'm studying to be a nurse, and she is considering going to medical school after graduation. We have similar tastes in music, film, books…it's kind of disconcerting.

A knock sounds from my apartment door, and I sigh, getting up from where I've been sitting for the past half an hour, waiting for Claire to reply to my last message when I should be studying for an exam.

My brother's face greets me as I open the door, and I put on a cheery grin. "Nate, didn't expect you here."

"Yeah, well after yesterday, I realised we never had a chance to continue our conversation." Nathan, being Nathan, sweeps into my apartment before I've even had a chance to invite him in. I roll my eyes, closing the door behind me.

"I didn't realise you shouting me down constituted as a conversation," I point out, watching him as he starts pacing, hands in his pockets.

"That's before you told me you thought you flew as you got up yesterday morning," He counteracts, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

"I didn't say I'd _flown_," I reply, "I just…hovered."

"Oh, and that makes it all better then, hm?"

"Look," I try to reason with him, but at the same time telling myself there isn't a point. Nathan is stubborn to the point of stupidity at times; he'll never change his views, especially if it's me trying to change them, "When I woke up yesterday morning I just thought my foot hovered, just for a second. And in my dreams, I've been flying –"

"Dreams?" He repeats rather incredulously. "Pete, they're just dreams. Dreams don't mean a thing. You were probably still half asleep when it happened. Just…forget about it, ok? It's nonsense."

"It's _not_ nonsense, it happened," I insist, not caring how childish I sound. "And I think you're the only one that can understand…sometimes you're there in my dreams."

Nathan sighs, finally ceasing his pacing and adjusting his tie. "Look, Pete, I have more important things to worry about than this. My campaign's gonna be starting soon, I don't have time to worry about whether my little brother's going to jump off a rooftop because he thinks he can fly."

He pauses.

"Don't even think about doing that, by the way."

I scoff, "I wasn't going to. I –"

"Anyway," My brother interrupts, "What happened yesterday? One minute you were there, telling me you can fly, and the next minute I was talking to the pavement."

Yesterday's events come flooding back to me, and I smile. "Oh, nothing. I bumped into this girl and split my coffee everywhere. But the weird thing was, Nate, she thought she knew me."

Nathan raises his eyebrows, obviously not amused by the way this conversation is going. "Gee, is that so? Maybe she can see into the future or something. Hey! You should get together sometime and discuss your powers."

I furrow my brows; frustrated that he isn't even listening to me, but he speaks before I can get a word in.

"Pete, look, I'd love to stand around chatting all day about how you think the world is full of strange and supernatural happenings, but I have a job to do and a campaign to sort out. I'll talk to you later, k?"

With a quick clap on the shoulder, he's gone, and I'm left to shut the door behind me in frustration at my older brother.

Just then, my phone buzzes, I pick it up, and for some reason, I feel my heart sink as I read what Claire has sent me.

Going back home tomorrow. You won't see me for a while. You'll see me again though ;) C x

It's strange how, with a girl I've known for just a day, I feel so strangely connected to her. But there she is again with the cryptic messages; I'd see her again? How can she be so sure?

Maybe Nathan's right, maybe she does have the power to see into the future…or maybe I'm just going crazy. Whatever the reason, ever since meeting Claire, my life has suddenly gotten more complicated.

_---_

_Saturday, March 16th, 2006. ( Claire is 16, Peter is 25 & 30 )._

_~"She said, "I know what it's like to be dead, I know what it is to be sad."~_

_Claire_

Today is my birthday, and I hope Peter has remembered it. He told me last time I saw him that wherever he is, he'll remember and hopefully that will send him to me, but we both know his power is unreliable at the best of times.

I should feel excited…I mean, this is my sweet 16th, after all, and I have a party planned, maybe even a car on the way, but all that really matters to me at that moment is talking to the only person I think will be able to understand what the hell is happening to me.

'Cause I'm pretty sure not all 16 year olds find out they're some sort of circus freak who can't get hurt.

It all started three weeks ago; I'd just got into the cheerleading squad, thanks to my frenemy, Jackie. I loved her, but I hated her at the same time, and that day, I definitely hated her. I didn't want to try on the uniform, and she accused me of not wanting to be on the squad enough, that maybe she should give it to someone else who deserved it more. Needless to say, we fought a little, and I ended up falling backwards into my glass cabinet; I had to have five stitches in my hand.

But the next day? The wound was gone, completely healed, stitches and all.

I tried to brush it off at first, I really did. Maybe I was just a fast healer?

Then I started to notice little things…paper cuts, bruises, bites from Mr Muggles…all of them gone within a minute or two.

So today, today is the test.

I told Peter I'd meet him in our usual spot, the orchard behind my house. I've been here for about half an hour now, but then I hear a familiar thump on the grass.

My heart begins to beat loudly, and it isn't just because I'm apprehensive about how to tell him what I think is happening to me, but because of_ him_ in general. Sure, Peter has been around me all my life…but I'm not a kid anymore, so of course I'm going to notice how, well, _hot_ he is.

It's just a crush, nothing big…but sometimes, sometimes I think he has feelings for me, too. There are moments where I feel he looks at me like I'm the most important person in the world to him, and that's enough to make any girl feel giddy, let alone ones who can possibly heal themselves.

"Happy Birthday!" I hear as I turn to face him, momentarily startled by the scar that streaks across his face. I've seen him like this once before; it means he's further along in the future than usual.

It's not the Peter I've been expecting, but it's still Peter, so I grin at him, "You came!"

"Yeah," he scratches the back of his neck; a habit of his when he's nervous or feels uncomfortable with a situation, "I...well, the me that lives in this time, I couldn't control my powers. I knew I wouldn't be able to get to you, so I came instead."

I'm only a little disappointed; having Peter here on my birthday is all I really wanted, it just happened to not be the Peter from my present (though I had gotten a text from him this morning, just incase he couldn't get here)

"It doesn't matter," I smile at him, "My party's in an hour, and I've brought some food…unless you want to come to the house?"

As expected, Peter politely declines, "I don't meet your parents for a while, not at this age anyway."

We sit down on the grass underneath the big oak tree, Peter leaning his back against the bark, me sitting cross-legged opposite from him, pulling at the long, rain-starved grass by my feet.

"What year are you from?" I question, pulling my hair back when it dangles in front of my face. I look up to meet his, and find he's staring at me oddly, "What?" The butterflies are beginning to start up again; I don't like them.

He just gives this sort of half smile, his lips making the end of his scar stretch, "2010, and do I have to have a reason to look at you?"

"No," I mumble in reply, ducking my head down again to avoid blushing. After a moment I brave a question that I've wanted to ask for a while.

"How did you get that scar?"

Peter visibly flinches, getting up from his sitting position and I know I've said the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly.

"It's ok," he replies, now looking down at me, "It's just…complicated."

I nod, "Sorry," I mumble again. I feel stupid for asking something that obviously breaches a touchy subject. I wonder where I am in his future, if I know how he's gotten it.

We fall into another comfortable silence, and I reach into the bag I've brought with me to get some food out; I'll be eating food at the party and my mom will disapprove if I don't finish my meal, but I can't wait anymore. It's then I find the pocket knife I'd snuck in when my dad wasn't looking, and remember that I have to tell Peter something important.

"Peter," I begin, and he looks up at me. He immediately twigs that something's up because he sits back down opposite me, staring at the weapon I have in my hand as though he knows what's coming.

"I think," I continue, "I think there's something…wrong with me. I mean, not wrong, but…." It's hard to search for the right words, "I think I'm like you, but different; I'm not appearing at different times in the future or anything, but…"

"There's nothing wrong with you," Peter comforts, his eyes softer than before, "What's happened?"

Why do I get the feeling he knows exactly what I'm going to do?

Keeping my eyes on him, I suck in a breath and press the cold blade against my wrist, wincing as it digs into my flesh and draws blood. I look down, startled by the amount of blood trickling down my arm. I feel sick; what if I'm wrong and I have to explain to my dad how I've cut my hand open? The droplets of blood drip down onto my white party dress, already marked with grass stains. I really haven't thought this through.

Thankfully, the skin begins to knit itself back together. Comforted and perplexed at the same time, I look to Peter for guidance.

He reaches out and indicates for me to give him the knife. I oblige, my arm already fully healed, and I wipe it on the grass to get rid of the excess blood. When I look up, Peter has already cut his own hand, and I watch, fascinated, as I witness a replica of what I'd just done to myself; the cut has healed.

"How did, I don't….you can do that too?" I'm amazed, not only because I'm different like Peter, but that he, on top of being able to spontaneously appear at different periods of time, can heal exactly like I can.

"I got it from you," The way he says it sounds almost like affection, and something else I can't quite place. It's then that I notice a ring on his left hand.

My heart sinks, "You're married."

Peter blinks before realising what I mean, following my eyes, "Yeah."

"That's nice." I stand up, unable to take the sudden wave of jealousy that has come over me. The happy feeling I had realising I'm connected to Peter, that I've given him my…gift, the excitement I had of seeing him today, of putting on my best dress and doing my make-up _just so_, it all melted away. I've been foolish to think a man, a man that's over 10 years older than me at any given time, would ever have the slightest of romantic feelings for me. I almost laugh at myself.

Peter frowns, coming after me as I begin to walk out of the clearing. From across the field, I can see my father setting up the barbeque, my mother laying the garden table. I should go back, I need to go back.

"Claire."

"I need to go." Something drips down my cheeks, and I realise it's my own tears, "Who is she?"

"She's the most amazing person in the world," That doesn't answer my question. I turn around to face him, choking back a sob, "I love her very much."

I nod, dipping my head so he can't see me crying. I feel him make his way towards me and place his arm on my shoulders, the other hand lifting my face up and wiping away my tears.

"Why are you crying?" He intones softly, and I swear my heart breaks then and there.

"I hoped that…" My voice is barely above a whisper, letting feelings I haven't really admitted myself out in the open, "maybe you were married to me."

* * *


	4. The Beginning

**A.N: **So, here's the next chapter! Hopefully everyone's following okay. I know I get confused at times, I've had to write a timeline to make sure I don't slip up! I'm afraid I don't own Heroes or the Time Traveler's Wife, and any song lyrics you recognise don't belong to me, either. Betaed as always by Winter Sapphire.

Enjoy! And, not begging or anything, but I'd love to know what people think about this story, because it's my baby, so any reviews would be nice : )

* * *

"_**Clare, very few people meet their soulmates at age six**__." – Henry, The Time Traveler's Wife._

_Monday, 19__th__ December, 2005 (Peter is 24)_

_Peter_

Christmas is an expensive time wherever you are in the world, but New York Christmases are horrendously so, as well as the added fact that everyone turns into lethal maniacs in their bid to get all their shopping done. The subways are packed, so are the buses, the cab companies are rubbing their hands in glee at all the extra fares they're getting over the holiday season.

And here's me, on the subway, packed in like a sardine in a tin can, wondering whether or not buying a present for Claire and sending it through the post all the way to Texas will arouse too much suspicion. My brother will hit me for thinking of something that stupid that could wreck his campaign, Ma will roll her eyes in that impressive way of hers and Claire's dad will probably fly all the way over here to kill me personally. And then I'd have died a horrible death without ever figuring out all the mystery behind the girl I've become so curious about.

I'm so deep in thought that I don't realise that the lights have all flickered off and everything seems to have come to a complete stop. I don't think much of it; then I realise _everyone_ has stopped as well. No-one is moving, breathing, nothing.

I'm panicking, I don't know what's going on, nor do I really want to. I'm just considering getting off the carriage when a figure looms ominously from the far side and marches over to me. I do a mental count of how much money I have in my wallet and begin to get it out in advance.

"Peter Petrelli?"

I then realise this guy is Asian, has a funny shaped goatee and is carrying a _sword_.

"You look different without the scar, I'm sorry. My name is Hiro Nakamura; I'm from the future."

My brain goes into overload….scar? The future? This triggers off thoughts of Claire and how she seems to know so much about me; is she from the future? Is this some elaborate trick; am I being filmed?

"Wait," I seem to have retained the ability to speak, "Do you know Claire? Is this some sort of trick? Did she set this up? I don't understand."

Hiro doesn't seem to either, as his quizzical expression tells me he doesn't know what I'm on about. I contemplate running for it, but he begins talking again.

"You're the only one that can save the world, Peter. You have to save her."

Wait, _what? _"Save who?"

"The cheerleader. Save her, save the world."

"I don't understand!"

"You will." He does this funny little bow before doing a sharp turn and walking down the other end of the carriage again.

Frustration reaches its peak inside of me. "Wait!"

"Save the cheerleader, save the world!" He shouts back; it sounds awfully ominous, and I feel as if something life-changing has just taken place.

What cheerleader? And why me?

---

_Saturday, 25__th__ March 2006. (Claire is 16)._

_~"Far, far, there was this little girl, she was praying for something to happen to her."~_

_Claire_

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing up there, Claire?"

I ignore Zach and continue my climb up the oil rig. He's seen the basics, and now it's time to go even bigger.

"Just make sure the camera's turned on!" I yell down; my shoe gets caught on the ladder momentarily and I struggle to get up, fingers slipping on the metal.

"You'll get yourself killed!"

I turn my head awkwardly from my position to quirk an eyebrow at him. "Really?" I ask. Considering everything I've been putting my body through the last week or so, I highly doubt this fall will kill me.

Zach shuts up; good plan on his part, really. Nothing he's going to say is stopping me from jumping off this oil rig. Hell, even if Peter came and tried to stop me, I wouldn't…

_But Peter has a wife out there somewhere, he doesn't need me_. The harsh reality still hurts, and I blink back sudden tears stinging my eyes. I don't need him, either.

I've reached the top now, sneakers squeaking on the grid. I look down, take a breath; this fall should kill me. It should. Maybe it still will, I've never tried this before.

My eyes are fixated on the ground below. I brush my hair out of my eyes and call, "Camera on?"

I don't dare look up at Zach; I might lose my nerve if I do.

"Yeah!" Comes his response, "But I don't know exactly why you want to –"

The rest of his words fade away because if I don't jump now I'll climb back down that ladder and run all the way home. I climb over the railings and let my fingers slip. The ground rushes towards me, faster, faster, faster. I'm screaming, the world is spinning and then…

Everything stops. I hear a voice, blurry at first, then clearer and louder.

"Oh, my God, Claire! This is - this is…are you ok?!"

Zach sounds frantic. I look up to a camera pointing at my face. I'm bleeding, my arm is killing me so I pop it back into place. Something crunches and I try not to think how many bones are broken. With great effort, I lift myself off the ground; my cheerleading uniform is ruined and I don't know how I'm going to explain it away to my parents.

"This is Claire Bennet," I mutter towards the camera, "and that was attempt number six."

Six. This is the sixth time I've effectively tried to kill myself. It doesn't help that Peter can do what I can do; he's not here now. I need to figure this out on my own.

Five minutes later, Zach and I are walking back to my house. He's excited, bouncing around telling me how cool it is. I'm busy wondering how I'm going to keep all this a secret from my parents.

"Zach," I finally cut into his excited monologue. "I don't care right now. Look at me, I'm a freak! I've broken, like, every bone in my body, stabbed myself, shoved a metal bar through my neck and I don't have a scratch on me!"

"Then…what's that there?" He points to my waist and I look and it's a rib, protruding out. I sigh and push it back in; Zach winces.

"Let's go home," I say dejectedly, trudging along the path. I'm tired and bloody, and I want Peter. I want him to tell me that it's all going to be ok.

---

_Wednesday, 4__th__ April 2006. (Claire is 16, Peter is 29)_

_~"Take a look at my body, look at my hands. There's so much here that I don't understand."~_

_Peter_

I land with a thump in the orchard. I blink, confused. I hadn't meant to end up here, not this time. One minute I was in bed, Claire sleeping soundly next to me, and the next…

I shrug the thought away; Hiro tells me these glitches can happen every now and again. I brush the dirt off my clothes and walk into the clearing. To my surprise, Claire is there in all her 16 year old glory. I think of my Claire asleep in our bed and bury emotion to the bottom of my heart.

She hasn't seen me so I creep up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She jumps, eyes like a rabbit caught in the headlights. I chuckle and sit down next to her, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Claire just shrugs, "S'ok."

I frown. She's quiet today, quieter than usual, arms wrapped around herself and a sad expression on her face. I wonder if I've done something wrong.

"Claire?"

The rest of my question stays unformed because she opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it again. I can almost see the inner conflict going on inside her head.

I stretch my legs out on the grass, enjoying the early April sun that filters through the trees. I wait for her.

"Will you beat someone up for me?"

I blink rapidly. That's not what I expected. "What?"

"I want you to beat someone up for me." She's wringing her hands inside her lap, looking down at the floor. She hasn't looked at my face since I got here.

"Ok…" I say softly, indulging her. "Why?"

It's then that Claire bursts out crying and flings herself onto me. Befuddled and worried, I stroke her back and press a hesitant kiss to her brow.

These emotions change as she launches into her story; a quarterback, an after-game celebration, a situation that went too far. My hands squeeze into knuckles behind her back, jealousy isn't the first sensation to come to the fore.

"Jackie and the others, I was fed up of them telling me I was frigid 'cause I never had boyfriends. It was to shut them up," It feels like Claire's trying to apologise to me and an epiphany dawns.

Claire, my beautiful, tear-stained Claire loves me. I smile weakly. "It's not your fault," I say, cursing the rules that I can't tell her our future there and then.

But then she tells me what happened next. She ended up waking up in a morgue with her chest flayed open. The bastard had killed her.

Claire's still clinging to my chest, taking sanctuary in my shirt, and I know I am going to hurt a boy called Brody. He doesn't know what he's started.

"Where can I find him?"

---

The boy isn't hard to find, he's stayed at school late after a practise. Claire leads me through the hallways that I already remember and to the steps that I definitely remember; remember running up and shouting at Claire to go, leave, find people.

Claire is looking at me and I smile, calculated. "He's all yours, darling."

I'm hidden behind a locker stack when I see Claire and the bastard walk past; she is giggling and brushing her hair behind her ear. His hand is dangerously low around her waist and anger burns within me. She catches my eye briefly; I nod and follow silently behind them.

_A few hours later_

Claire causes a rather spectacular car crash. My heart leaps into my throat when the convertible slams into a wall, bursting into flames instantaneously. I run towards the wreckage and pull her from it; she smells of oil and smoke and her hair is alight, little sparks of flame dancing around her face. She still looks beautiful.

From the passenger seat, I hear a moan and Brody is there, looking worse for wear. I reach in and pull him out with me.

Claire gives me a look. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't get charged for murder," I reply, leaning the unconscious boy against a tree and checking his injuries. He'll live, unfortunately. "Call 911." I hand her my mobile.

She does so reluctantly. "He killed me," she retorts softly.

"I know," I reply. We look at each other, I long to take her into my arms, and a moment passes.

---

_Friday, 19__th__ June 2009. (Peter is 29, Claire is 19)_

_Claire_

I'm awakened by Peter kissing me softly. My bleary eyes open. I'm annoyed, I like sleep, but Peter's got a certain look on his face and I realise his side of the bed is cold.

"Where did you go?" I ask as he slips back underneath the sheets. He looks at me, tracing the contours of my face.

"April 06."

A moment of understanding passes between us. "Thank you," I whisper.

"It was my pleasure," he answers, kissing me again.

---

_9__th__ October 2000. (Claire is 10, Peter is 24)_

_Peter_

_---_

I groan, lifting my head up from the dusty ground and blinking.

..Wait.

Dust? Ground? What the hell?

I jump up and blink a couple of more times, taking in my surroundings. Gone is my apartment, my Christmas shopping, the skyline of New York. Hello to an open plane of grass, cloudy skies and not a skyscraper in sight.

_I'm not in Kansas anymore…_I think, trying to remember if I'd jumped on a plane in between getting home and collapsing on the sofa for a nap. It doesn't even feel like December here. What the hell just happened?

I hear movement coming from a clump of bushes nearby. I sigh, sitting on the edge of a little hill, gazing out at the view before me. It's quite pretty; really, there's a small town I can see not far off. I wonder if I should go there and ask where I am…

"Peter!"

…Or maybe somebody already knows.

I turn my head, frowning when I realise the person who's called my name is a small girl, who promptly flings her arms around my neck and pronounces:

"I'm so happy you're here! I've got so much to tell you about school, and Lyle and –"

"Whoah," I cut in, shuffling back as far as I can and putting my hands in the air. "No offence, kid, but who are you?"

The girl cocks her head sideways like I've just gone mental. I think I might have…or this is some sort of crazy dream. Then it hits me. I've seen those green eyes and blonde hair before…but it can't be…

"Claire?" I ask, incredulous.

"Yes, stupid." Claire rolls her eyes, and I recognise that attitude anywhere.

I'm sitting God-knows where with a girl I met a month ago…but when I met her she was _definitely_ not this young.

"Erm." I rub the back of my neck – nervous habit, and at this moment, I was very anxious – "Mind telling me how exactly I got here? Last time I saw you, you were…more grown up than this and I was in New York. Where am I and how am I talking to you, here?"

Claire's eyes widen and her mouth forms a silent, 'oh', expression, kneeling down opposite me and placing her hands in her lap. I wait for a moment as she frowns.

"Where are you coming from?"

I stare at her blankly.

She sighs, "What date is it where you are?"

"19th December, 2005," I answer as she nods.

"You've just found your powers," she states, grinning triumphantly like she's just announced I've won an Olympic Gold. I really wish the latter had happened right now.

"I…what?" My head is whirring: what power? Could this have anything to do with the freaky, Japanese guy I'd met earlier?

Claire bites her lip, moving her legs from under her to sit cross-legged on the grass. "You can…time travel, I guess. That's what you've always told me. You appear at different places and times randomly, and you can't usually control what you do, 'cause it's like…hard."

My brain is trying to process this information, but all I can really register is…

"Always?"

At this, Claire looks at me sadly. "I've known you since I was six…I've never had this happen before. You don't know me."

Ok, this is a little hard to take in. I'm glad I'm sitting down. My head is reeling…powers, time travel, a random girl coming up to me in New York acting like she knew me…

"_That's_ why," I mutter to myself, "It all makes sense." I look up to Claire who's glancing at me hopefully.

A thought pops into my mind, probably not the best one at that present moment, but I give it a shot.

"Can I fly?" I feel childishly excited about the answer she's going to give, and rejoicing over the possible opportunity to laugh in Nathan's face when I get back.

She nods gleefully, launching into a recount of a time I took her flying for her 8th birthday. I file that bit of information away for when I _do_ see Claire when she's 8, and laugh in spite of everything that's going on.

I find myself being swept away in conversation, Claire helping me learn more about my powers and what it might all mean. We're halfway through a semi-heated debate about whether or not I actually _am_ the male version of Rogue from X-Men, when I'm suddenly back in my apartment in New York, and my cell is buzzing so hard on the coffee table, it falls off.

Letting my vision right itself first, I pick it up, glancing down at the screen. Three missed calls from Claire, one from my brother and another from my mother. I ignore the one from Ma, it's never anything important. I contemplate phoning either Claire or Nathan first.

I decide to send Claire a text, still quite overwhelmed by everything that's happened and excited at the same time.

_You'll never guess who I bumped into today – P_

And then I dial my brother's number, walking out of my apartment door to find the nearest rooftop to jump off. The look on his face will be _priceless_.


	5. Homecoming

**A.N: **Here's the next chapter! Sorry there's been a bit of a wait, I've had a few RL issues. This is the chapter where the ball starts rolling. After this, things begin to change in the past, present and the future. As always, it's betaed by Winter Sapphire :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Heroes or The Time Traveler's Wife. They belong to Tim Kring and Audery Niffenegger respectively.

Enjoy! And reviews would be appreciated :)

_**

* * *

**_

"_**Love is not in our choice but in our fate." **__– John Dryden_

_13__th__ October 2006. (Claire is 16, Peter is 25)_

_Peter_

---

I've finally figured out what that Japanese guy was trying to tell me back in December.

Well…the 'save the cheerleader' part, anyway.

Turns out, I'm not the only one who has abilities. I found out my brother can fly, albeit after I tried to jump off a 20 story building, but still. Then I found this painter called Isaac; everything he paints comes true. A couple of days ago I was looking through some of his stuff when I spotted a painting.

It showed a girl, wide-eyed and frightened, blonde hair streaming behind her. Only one person fit that description in my eyes: Claire.

Isaac and I searched through other paintings, one of Claire running up some sort of steps, a shadow behind her, one of two Japanese men next to a bloody 'Homecoming' banner, one of a man I think was meant to be me with locker doors being thrown in my direction and – this one made my heart stop – a painting of Claire lying with her head cut open, a shadowy figure standing by. I knew then that I had to get to Odessa.

I step off the plane in Midland, the nearest place to Odessa that has an airport, and my phone starts to ring. I answer it.

"_Peter,"_ comes Isaac's voice, panicked, _"You can't do this, you've got to come back to New York."_

I frown. "I can't. I told you, if Claire's in danger, I need to be there to save her. I'm the only one that can."

"_I painted something,"_ he continues undeterred, _"I'm sending you a picture of it now. Just be careful if you insist on doing this, Peter."_

He hangs up, and I immediately get a picture message. What I see makes my blood run cold. It's a picture of me lying on the ground, my limbs mangled. According to Isaac's painting, I die at 8:12 tonight.

But I have to do this. Claire's in danger, and the Japanese guy told me to save the cheerleader to save the world. There's no going back, not now.

---

_Claire_

I can't believe Zach's helping me get out of being grounded. For some, crazy reason my dad flipped and banned me from going to Homecoming; even though I'd been crowned Queen! It's funny, I never thought anything like this would be important to me, not after I found out about my power…but just this _one_ moment of being a normal girl in high school…it'll be worth my dad grounding me when I get back.

---

_Peter_

I stand in front of the entrance of Odessa Wells High School. Yup, this is where Claire goes alright, and where something awful will happen if I don't put a stop to it.

I slip inside the doors, take a furtive look around and pull my collar up. I don't want any questions as to why I'm at a Homecoming game, though I know I'll have to think up a fast explanation if I'm asked.

I stop outside a trophy cabinet. It proclaims that a girl called Jackie Wilcox is a town hero for pulling a man out of a burning train car. I smirk a little, knowing the truth behind that story. Claire had told me that it had really been her. Now if only I could find Claire and warn her…

_Claire_

I glance at my watch and realise I'll be late for the half time show if I don't hurry up, so I quicken my steps to the changing room. All of a sudden I collide into something warm and solid, almost knocking me off my feet.

"I'm sorry," I laugh, embarrassed, "I wasn't looking where I was…"

"It's alright," the person answers, we lock eyes and suddenly:

"Peter?" I blink as I realise who I just bumped into, elated and confused at the same time.

He looks the opposite of how I feel, all anxious with his eyes darting back and forth, "Claire," he breathes, seeming relieved, "Thank God."

He passes me my bag and I give him a small smile of thanks, "Where are you from?" I question, wondering whether he just teleported here.

But Peter shakes his head, "I'm from here. I flew, Claire, listen, you've got to go home. There's –"

The half-time bell sounds and I remember where I'm supposed to be, "I have to go, I'll talk to you after the game, ok?"

He begins to protest but I'm already gone. I can't stand around and chat. Jackie will kill me as it is.

---

_Peter_

I curse, wanting to follow Claire to tell her, but if I go into the girl's changing rooms…bad idea.

Instead, a thought strikes me. If I can get to the guy that's after Claire before he can get to her, then I'll be able to save her without her knowing she's in danger. I begin to look around the hallways, trying to spot anything that I saw in the paintings. I go outside and realise the amphitheatre is the place where Claire runs in one of the paintings. I frown; no one's there. I go back inside the corridor and try another door.

This time, I'm faced with the school clock looming over me, the ominous hands showing 8:06. Six minutes left.

Then all of a sudden, a resounding scream pierces the night sky. Immediately, my thoughts turn to Claire and I run as fast as I can towards the direction of the sound, hoping I'm not too late.

---

_Claire_

One minute, Jackie and I are fighting; over the past couple of months, I'd finally realised that my friendship with her wasn't worth salvaging and I had much better friends in people like Zach, who didn't try and hide who they were. But the next minute, the lights in the changing room go out, and someone grabs Jackie by the throat. She screams, fighting against her assailant, and I run at the figure, trying to pull his fingers from her neck.

The next thing I know, I'm being slammed into the wall opposite, and pain blurs my vision, rendering me semi-unconscious. I can feel blood dripping down my face, my skull is battered and my arm is broken. I wince, feeling the cells of my body regenerate and popping my arm back into place.

A grim sight awaits me as I glance over to Jackie. Somehow, this guy has cut her head open, the blood splattering the Homecoming banner I'd made earlier at home. My heart is in my mouth. This man just killed her, he just killed her and now he's going to kill me too. Is this why Peter's here? Was he trying to warn me about something?

Jackie's blurry eyes fix on mine, probably her last words tumbling from her mouth,

"_Run."_

I don't hesitate; I scramble up and run as fast as possible, tripping over my feet in my hastiness. I can sense the man not too far behind me. I can't look back, I can't. I've just about reached the corridor when something collides into me and I scream, but it's Peter and it's all I can do not to cry in his arms.

"You're ok," he says, amazed, but the figure is closing in on us and he notices, calls out to me to run. I start to ask what he's going to do, but the look in his eyes stop me. I dart down the corridor and don't look back.

---

_Peter_

Claire's alive. That's the one thing I need to keep in my head. She's got blood all over her uniform, but she's ok. I've saved her.

Then the guy in the cap flings locker doors in my direction, and I realise neither of us are safe yet. I can't fight back; I don't have a power that will help me, so I have to run. Maybe if I can get Claire out of the school, maybe if I can get her to people, she'll be ok.

I follow where she ran to and find her scrambling up the steps of the amphitheatre, climbing up behind her. We stop at the top and I can see the fear in her eyes.

"It's ok," I try and comfort her, "Just go. Find lights, people, he doesn't want to be seen."

"What about you?" She asks, but I shake my head. I know from the picture that I need to do this.

"Don't worry about me. Just go."

She doesn't move, so I repeat myself, "_Go!_"

Claire's only out of sight for two seconds when I feel the guy's presence behind me. How the hell did he get up here so fast? I push him to the ground and we tumble over and over….and suddenly we're going over the edge of the amphitheatre, and everything else turns black.

---

_Claire_

Peter told me to find people, but I can't just leave him. I rush back to where I saw him last, but he's not there. I search the other outside areas, and when I see a mangled body near the school clock tears well up in my eyes.

"No, no, no," I mumble, running towards his body, "No, Peter, no."

I kneel down beside him, brushing the bangs back from his bloodstained face. He was dead, eyes glassy, limbs twisted in a grotesque fashion. He must've fallen off the top of the amphitheatre, but if so, where was the guy that killed Jackie?

"I thought you were like me," I whisper, tears falling, "You said you were like me!"

I place my hand tentatively on his, hoping my touch will be enough to make him absorb my power and come back to life. Nothing happens. I let out a small sob.

Then, Peter starts coughing. His body starts moving, and the haze around his eyes lift. My heart soars.

"You're ok," I breathe, talking to both him and myself as I watch him twist his lower body back where it's supposed to be.

He looks at me, confused. "How did I? How…"

"You're like me." I smile through my tears. "You took my power."

The wound on his cheek heals and he winces. "You can heal?"

I nod proudly, before remembering the events that brought us here. This wasn't just some silly experiment with Zach. Jackie is dead.

"Who…who was that man?" I ask, quieter.

"I don't know," Peter answers, and I'm grateful for his honesty. "All I know is that I had to save you, Claire."

I smile again, reaching out my hand to help him up.

"You're totally my hero."

---

_18__th__ October 2006. (Claire is 16.)_

_Claire_

I haven't been to school since Homecoming. For the first few days the school was shut because of the police investigation, and for the rest my mom wanted to keep me away from school 'cause she thinks I'm mentally scarred by the whole experience. I mean, I am, whatever Jackie and I were at the end…we were friends once. She didn't deserve to die like that.

I'd taken the plunge when my dad had found me that night and told him about my power. He'd told me it was ok, that he understood. I don't see how he can understand that his daughter is some sort of freak show, but I didn't question him, I was just glad to be home.

Peter's only contacted me a few times since it happened, just a few calls late at night to see if I'm ok. He's the only one that really understands, even Zach acts awkward around me, as if talking about Homecoming is some sort of fatal disease to avoid at all costs.

But today, today seems different. Sort of…strange. I IMed Zach earlier asking him if he wanted to bring his camera up to the oil rig; I really need to feel some release right now, and jumping sounded like a pretty good idea. But he messaged me back with, 'WTF why are you talking to me?" and the conversation I tried to have with him after that made me realise he genuinely didn't understand why I was talking to him when I hadn't spoken to him since 2nd grade. He knew nothing of our trips to the oil rig, or my ability, or what happened at Homecoming.

My brother was sitting in the kitchen earlier with no recollection of how he'd got there, or that he'd accidentally seen the tape Zach and I had filmed, and I hadn't seen my mom all day. I felt like I was the only one who remembered anything from the past five days.

I phone Peter, looking for reassurance that I'm not going crazy.

"_Hey, Claire. I'm about to go to work. What's wrong?"_

"Tell me you remember," I try and say, stumbling over my words, "You- you remember everything, right?"

He sounds confused; I can hear him switching the phone to his other ear. _"Of course I do, what's going on?"_

"My dad…my dad, when I told him, he said that there were people out there that wanted to hurt me, and now Zach and Lyle don't remember a thing, and I don't know where my mom is. It's like it never happened. I don't know what to do."

Peter's worried, but he can't do anything unless he flies here, so he tries to reassure me.

"_Don't worry. I promise I won't let anything happen to you. If you need me I'll be there as soon as I can, ok? I have to go now, but I'll call you later."_

I sigh into the phone, only mildly relieved. "Okay," I answer, "I'll talk to you later."

I hang up the phone; the house is eerily quiet. Then I realise there's footsteps outside my door, and a tall, dark man walks into my room. I scream, but he forces his hand over my mouth, quieting me.

"I work for your father," He says in a heavily accented voice. That doesn't calm me in the slightest as he's still got his hand over my mouth. I continue to struggle in his grasp.

"He sent me here to make you forget, like he sent me to your friend, and your brother, and to your mother so many times. He'll be here soon expecting that you won't remember anything. But it is very important that you do."

I stop struggling, trying to process everything he's just told me, as he asks me,

"Tell me, Claire, can you keep a secret?"


	6. Love Story

**A.N: **Here's the next chapter! Thanks always to my beta, Winter Sapphire -squish-

**Warnings/Spoilers: **Very minor spoilers concerning characters for S4. Hints of an adult/minor relationship. Small references to sex.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Heroes or The Time Traveler's Wife.

* * *

_Wednesday, 21__st__ August, 1996. (Claire is 6 and 16. Peter is 25)_

_---_

_~"We were both young when I first saw you. _

_I close my eyes and the flash-backs start…"~_

_---_

Peter

I feel myself falling and land in familiar surroundings; the orchard behind Claire's house. Of course, it's only familiar because of the land; the fields nearby don't change. There's never any indication of time passing, so I have no idea what year it is. All I know is that it feels like early summer, and Claire isn't here.

I sit on the edge of a small hill, squinting as the sun comes out from behind the clouds.

Texas gets a different kind of summer than New York. It's hotter, but the heat sticks to you, surrounds you completely until you're gasping thankfully at the short breaths of wind that blow over every now and again. Thankfully, the heat isn't that oppressive yet, but I still wish for something more comfortable than my black sweater I'd pulled on to cope with the October chill from where I'd just come from.

I'm just beginning to wonder if I don't actually meet Claire today, if I just get pulled to where she is, but then I hear footsteps racing through the trees nearby.

Claire bursts through into the clearing, breathless from running. She's six years old or thereabouts. She finds my eyes. I smile. Claire doesn't seem to be in the mood for smiling.

"Who are you?" She demands, "This is_ my_ orchard."

She then remembers what her mother told her about strangers, backs away slightly and, before I can do anything, flings a shoe in my face.

"Ow," I say in response, feeling my lip crack and tasting blood. Thankfully, Claire's power kicks in and it heals straight away. I hope she hasn't seen that.

To my relief, she just repeats herself, holding the shoe she hit me with like a weapon above her head, preparing for another throw. Even at six she's feisty.

"Who are you?"

I hesitate. I've obviously gone back to a time where Claire doesn't know who I am. I'm excited and worried all at the same time. How am I supposed to explain who I am to a six-year-old? How much am I allowed to tell her without messing up our futures?

Claire's got a hand on her hips and is looking at me expectantly, an action she'll perfect later on in life. I'm worried she'll throw her shoe at me again, so I hold out my hands in defence. I've never met a more intimidating six-year-old.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I swear." I try and take a step forward but Claire's starting to aim the shoe at me again. I stop before she throws it.

"Look," I begin again, deciding it's safer to stay where I am, "this might sound crazy, but I'm…we're friends, Claire."

She's so surprised she drops the shoe, which I'm glad of. "You know my name?"

I nod, trying hard to convince her. "I know your favourite colour is sky blue and you have a little brother and a dog called Mr Muggles. You hate Math class but you're good at it and your best friend is a boy called Zach."

Claire's standing open-mouthed, so I take the opportunity to carry on talking.

"I'm from the future, Claire. We're friends in the future."

Now she's frowning. I sigh. This is going to take some work.

"I have a problem. I can't control where I want to go…yet. I travel to different times when I don't mean to."

"I don't believe you," she says defiantly, folding her arms.

"Then how do I know all this stuff about you?" I ask, mimicking her position.

That stumps her. I can see she's trying very hard to understand.

I decide it's best if I'm quiet for a moment so she can try and get her head round things. Lord knows she'll have to come to terms with worse truths as time goes on. We stand in silence, regarding each other.

"So…" Claire steps towards me hesitantly. "Are you like, an angel?"

"Not really," I admit. Claire looks slightly crestfallen.

"I like angels."

Feeling confident she won't hit me again, I take a step forward, trying my best to look as least threatening as possible.

"I'm not an angel, Claire. I'm a real person," I say to her, "but you can't tell anyone about me, ok?"

"Not even my dad?" Her eyes widen again. In her world, her dad _is_ her world. She doesn't keep a thing from him…though he keeps plenty from her.

"_Especially_ not your dad," I emphasize, thinking of the first and only time I've met Noah Bennet – when Claire came to New York. Thinking about what's happened since then, I really wouldn't like to come face to face with him again.

I feel the familiar pull in my stomach; I'll be back in the present shortly.

"I have to go." The feeling is getting stronger now, like a rush of blood to the head."I'll be back soon, ok? I'll be here in the orchard."

Claire still looks bemused, but I have to hope she believes me. I can imagine ruining the future for countless numbers of my future selves because I didn't say the right thing. What would the world be like if I never met Claire Bennet?

I try and smile but, just like that, I'm gone and sprawled outside the door to my apartment. Mrs. Rosa in the apartment across the hall pokes her head nosily around the door and shuts it again in disgust, muttering about drunk people and obscene times of night. At least she hasn't found out about my guest yet.

I brush myself down, pick up my keys and turn the lock. A sixteen-year-old Claire has fallen asleep on the couch watching TV, worry from the day still etched in her face.

I walk in and switch the TV off. Claire stirs. I sit down next to her.

While she's rubbing sleep from her eyes, I announce into the silence, "You threw a shoe at me today."

Her face colours, hands fly to her cheeks. A voice in my head tells me she looks beautiful – I try to ignore it.

"Did I hurt you?" She's actually checking my face for injuries. I resist the temptation to laugh, and the bigger, more impulsive urge to kiss her when she bends down in front of me and searches my face, bringing a hand up to touch my cheek.

The atmosphere changes. I bring my own hand up to move hers away.

"I healed." My throat is dry. I swallow.

Claire blushes again, scooting back onto the couch with a mumbled 'Sorry.' I can't be sure whether she's apologising for the shoe or not. I clear my throat and stand up, moving towards the kitchen.

Once there, I hit my head on the fridge door, trying to shake away the very bad and wrong thoughts from my head. Like wanting to kiss her. Repeatedly.

One thing's for sure, a world without Claire Bennet would certainly be less problematic right now.

---

_Saturday, 19__th__ June, 2010. Claire is 20, Peter is 29._

_---_

_~ "I love him. He's my life. I've been waiting for him, my whole life, and now, he's here. I can see everything laid out, like a map, past and future, everything at once, like an angel. I can reach into him and touch time…he loves me. We're married because…we're part of each other…It's happened already. You're talking about somebody I've known since I was six. I __**know**__ him. I've seen my future; I can't change it, and I wouldn't if I could." ~ Clare, The Time Traveler's Wife._

_---_

_(9:00)_

Claire

I wake up disorientated, opening my eyes, staring at the ceiling. I can hear voices downstairs, the sun streams through my closed curtains. I frown.

Isn't something important happening today?

Suddenly, my door bursts open and the noises from downstairs surround me. Mr. Muggles barks at the foot of my bed.

"Claire!" My mother's voice pierces my eyes. I grown, turning my head as the curtains are pulled open, filling the room with light.

"Claire!" She shouts again. I see her shadow fall across me.

"It's nine o'clock. We need to get you ready, honey."

I frown. Today is an important day but I can't think why. I reach through the muddy veil of sleep and try and grasp it, but it slips away again.

Then it hits me.

"I'm getting married," I announce, grinning like an idiot. I sit up, looking at my mother. "I'm getting married."

My mother smiles back. I can see tears glisten in the corner of her eyes. She'll be a blubbering wreck by the end of the day, but it'll be ok. I can picture Peter in my head. I keep smiling. I'm getting married.

---

_(10:15)_

Peter

I haven't really slept. The events of today weigh too heavy in my brain to let myself relax.

I love Claire, I know that for a fact. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with her, but this world we live in…

I often wonder what life I can offer her. If I'm good enough. Claire jokes that her dad's let me marry her, so I must be good enough, but I still wonder.

My cell phone rings. I want it to be Claire. Instead, it's Nathan, the newly elected President of the United States. Some things never change.

_"Peter,"_ he says, sounding relieved. _"You're up!"_

"I am getting married today," I answer dryly, getting out of the bed in my hotel room. Ma had wanted me to marry Claire in NY, all glitz and glamour and PR for Nathan. But Claire wanted to get married nearer to home. The family had moved back to Texas a year ago. We're getting married in the church in her home town.

_"Yeah, about that,"_ Nathan's voice is faltering, but I know that whatever comes next will be perfectly rehearsed. _"Don't know if I can make it, Peter. You know…"_

"Oh, don't worry." I'm trying to button my shirt with one hand, sarcasm lacing my voice. "Running the country means your brother's wedding has to take a back seat. I totally understand. I'll just find another best man."

Nathan sighs down the phone. _"Geez, Pete, make me feel guilty why don't you. Look, what time does the ceremony start?"_

I check my watch – it's ten fifteen. "Two o'clock."

My brother grunts in reply, _"I'll see what I can do."_

"I'm not waiting for you, Nate. This is your one and only chance to see me get married, remember."

_"Yeah, yeah, ok. I'll be there."_

I hear the dial tone and sigh. What a brilliant start to the day.

---

_(12:45)_

Claire

"You don't have to do this, you know."

I frown at the reflection of my best friend in the mirror. Angela Petrelli, my soon-to-be-mother-in-law, has hired_ the_ best team of stylists to do my hair and make-up. They've spent the last fifteen minutes fussing and floundering over what to do to me until I managed to stop them. Peter likes my hair down and curly, I like my make-up simple. They're still a bit put out at my request, but it gives me some peace and quiet.

"Zach," I say slowly, as if I'm talking to a small child. "I love Peter. Peter loves me. Logical solution – marriage!"

Zach rolls his eyes. He's been dressed for two hours and has been in his element ordering people around for the better part of the morning – even putting the feared Angela Petrelli in her place on a few last minute details of the reception.

"I just think you might be rushing into things. I mean, ok, you guys met when you were six and he was twenty something, whatever. You haven't been dating very long."

I purse my lips to hide my grin, looking at myself in the mirror as the girl applies the finishing touches to my make up. I've known Peter Petrelli all my life, and all my life has been leading up to this moment. There's no if or buts about it. We belong together.

I can see Zach smiling in spite of himself. He reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. "You look beautiful, babydoll."

I grin. Zach's the best gay best friend a girl could ever have, even if he is overprotective.

I take that moment to admire myself. Peter may have told me countless times that I could spend what I like on this wedding; I still didn't want to go overboard. Zach had helped me choose my dress, a strapless, white frock with blue embroidery running down it. Zach joked when I'd tried it on that I shouldn't wear white in a church, considering I'm not a virgin. (I made sure he paid for that comment, literally – he bought the _something new_, a silver chain bracelet.)

My hair's loose, natural curls teased out to be a little fuller than usual. My 16th birthday present from my father hands round my neck – a silver heart. Mom's given me a blue flower to pin into my hair. So that's something old, new, borrowed and blue.

Butterflies begin to rise in my stomach. "What time is it?"

"Relax." He squeezes my shoulder. "It's quarter to one. We'll get you to the church on time."

Zach winks and I giggle. My mom walks in the room and practically screams, flinging her arms around me.

"Oh, honey, just look at you, look at you!" She turns back around and shouts down the stairs, "Noah! Noah! Get up here and see your daughter!"

"Mom," I mutter in embarrassment, but happy to let her carry on at the same time.

My little brother walks past the door looking uncomfortable in his new tux and gives me and approving thumbs up, then makes a crazy gesture at mom. I grin and mouth a thank you in return.

Dad enters the room. Mom steps back so he can look at me. Over the years, our relationship has been strained to say the least but still, here we are. It feels kinda like goodbye.

"Claire-bear," he breathes out. I try hard not to cry. I run and hug him and he squeezes me tightly, pressing a kiss to my cheek as he pulls away. "You look wonderful."

I smile at him. "Thanks." Then I step back, taking in my parents and my best friend.

"I'm ready."

---

_(1:15)_

Peter

I receive a text from Nathan telling me he's coming after all, a quick phone call from Ma to say she thinks Claire's friends are rude and obnoxious and that she hopes we cease to socialise with them after the wedding, and a text from Zach saying exactly the same about my mother.

I chuckle and check my watch. One fifteen. I should really be getting to the church. There's a car waiting for me outside the hotel but I decide to teleport there, vaguely remembering where it is from the rehearsal a few days ago.

I appear in the vestry, where a startled priest has just put his robe over his head. I smile apologetically and make my way to the church proper.

People are beginning to arrive. I can see Claire's friend from college, Gretchen, wave at me from under a big, green hat. I grin back. I see distant relatives of mine and Claire's and friends of my mother's looking around at the place and people with disdain.

Suddenly, the doors to the church open and Nathan strides down the center, looking blustered. He claps me on the shoulder as he reaches me.

"You have no idea what I had to do to get here," he mutters to me. His presence is already drawing looks from the congregation, half of them admiring him, half wary.

"Where are your bodyguards?" I quip. He gives me a pointed look.

"I ditched them. …I'll tell you about it later. I flew."

I'm genuinely touched. But I realise Nathan, as always, probably has an underlying motive for his actions. "Thanks, Nate."

"Like you said," he sighs heavily, rocking back and forth on his heels. "This is your one and only wedding day. I mean, it is, right?"

I give him a playful shove. "You know it is."

Then I get the familiar, awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. The room starts to spin.

"Shit." I mutter under my breath, Nathan looking on with concern. "Shit _shit_. I need some air."

This can't happen now. I've been in control of my powers for years…apart from a few slip-ups. I'm not going to teleport on my wedding day.

My brother escorts me outside and I gratefully lean against the wall of the building.

"I think I need to take a walk."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean…"

But I'm already walking. I need to clear my head. Focus on something. Claire. Claire in a wedding dress smiling at me. I try and keep that image in my head but it morphs into one where she's crying, distraught that I abandoned her on her wedding day. My stomach lurches dangerously.

"Oh, fuck!" I exclaim, and then I'm gone.

---

_(2:05)_

Claire

He's five minutes late. The priest said he went out with Nathan twenty minutes ago. Neither of them have come back. I try and calm myself. Dad squeezes my hand.

"He'll be here, Claire-bear," he assures me, though I know if Peter doesn't show up my dad will be first on the list to hunt him down.

"I know, Dad." I try and sound confident. Peter will be here, we will get married, he's just nervous, that's all. I can be patient. I've already waited my entire life for this, a few more minutes won't hurt.

Ten minutes pass, fifteen. Nathan comes storming round the corner, alone, sees me and panics.

"Where is he?" I hiss at him.

"He's, erm…" My future-brother-in-law is, for the first time since I've known him, apparently lost for words. He strides towards the church door, looks inside and withdraws. His posture is immediately more relaxed.

"He's inside." Nathan's back to his usual self. He finally takes me in and pats me awkwardly on the arm before rushing back inside.

Beside me, my dad links my arm with his. My bridesmaids – May, Molly Walker and two of my cousin – line up behind me in their blue dresses.

"Here we go," I murmur as I walked forward to Pachelbel'sCanonand Peter's waiting arms.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles as I reach him.

"Where were you?" I whisper back.

"I'll tell you later." He gives me this grin that I've seen before. It hides a secret and I realise he's teleported.

The priest is going on about love and the sanctity of marriage, but all I can see is Peter's face. The ceremony goes by in such a blur that, before I know it, the priest is telling Peter he can kiss me. I feel as if I've just let out a huge breath I didn't realise I was holding.

Then come the cheers and the confetti and I throw the bouquet – Hiro Nakamura, of all people, manages to catch it – and Peter bundles me into the waiting limo. We're laughing and he kisses me before joining our hands together.

I glance down. Two matching gold bands twinkle up at me.

"We're married," I announce happily. Peter chuckles, moving to kiss me again.

"You look beautiful, by the way." Then his lips are on mine and I'm unbuttoning his shirt and thank _God_ the driver has his screen up otherwise he'd be getting a show right now.

But then I remember we're on our way to the reception and our friends will cat call and I can picture my father's disapproving stare…

We both pull away instantaneously.

"You had to think of your dad, didn't you?" Peter scrunches his nose up before we burst into laughter and I settle into his arms, content to stay like this for the rest of the journey.

"I love you," I say finally, looking up at him.

He smoothes back a curl from my face. "Love you too. Always."

And like that, our married life begins.

---

_Monday, 23rd October 2006. (Claire is 16, Peter is 25.)_

---

_~"Maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me._

_And after all, you're my wonderwall."~_

_---_

Claire

The past few days have been terrifying. I'm still trying to get my head around what the Haitian told me. My dad. _My_ dad kidnaps people like me, has been doing it for years, to do God-knows-what to them. He sends the Haitian to wipe away memories so no-one knows what he's done.

I wonder how many times he's had my memory wiped. My mom's. My brother's.

After Homecoming, he made the Haitian take away everyone's memory of the event…but he didn't take mine, and now I'm having to pretend, but I'm so, so scared that Dad'll find out. If he does, he'll probably send me away to be experimented on too.

I can hardly look at my dad anymore, half-scared to but also hurt that he could lie to me, to the family, for all these years. The betrayal stings every time I see him, our conversations are strained. I say I'm too tired to talk. He smiles as if everything's alright with the world, as if he's not this person that makes me sick to my stomach.

My calls to Peter are my only escape. At night, when I'm sick of pretending and make excuses to stay in my room, I phone him. I asked him if he knew about my dad, but he swears he didn't before I told him.

He's told me to try and talk to Zach. He says I need someone I can trust nearby. So I try. I manage to drag Zach to the oil-rig with his camera, show him all over again what I can do, but make him swear to keep it a secret. I tell him about Peter, knowing him since I was little. He's shocked at first but more accepting than I'd hoped.

But today I walk in from school to find my mom doesn't know who I am, and it's the last straw. She screams at me to get out, breaks things, and when my dad comes in to calm her down I can't stand it anymore.

Later, we're at the hospital and the doctor's are looking grave as they check my mom's charts and I can't stay in the room otherwise I'll do something stupid. My dad's talking to the head doctor and follows me out minutes later.

"Claire-bear, your mother's ill…they says she has something wrong with her brain." He looks at me with caring eyes and I almost believe he has nothing to do with it. But only for a second.

"And why is that, Dad?" I'm looking at him with disgust. I can't pretend anymore. "Is it because she's had her memory wiped too many times for her to remember anything, let alone forgot what she isn't supposed to know?"

He pretends not to understand, "Claire, I don't –"

"I know who you are!" I yell and there are tears falling down my face. I'm shaking, I can't control my anger. "I know what you do to people. People like me. What you tried to do to me and what you did to mom and Lyle and Zach. It's your fault Mom's sick!"

Dad goes red in the face and I can see the veins bulging from his temple. He grabs me by the arm. "You have _no_ idea –"

"Don't touch me!" I back away, shaking my head. "I don't know you anymore, Dad. I don't trust you."

I'm running out of the hospital and down the street before my dad can say anything else. I don't care where I go, I just run and run and run.

I catch a bus home and wait for my dad to come back, maybe with the Haitian in tow to make sure I forget this time. But when he does get home, after he and Lyle have helped mom into bed, he comes into my room and sits on the edge of my bed.

I turn away, refusing to look at him.

"Claire-bear," I hear him sigh, "there's a lot of things you don't understand. But I will explain everything to you tomorrow."

I scoff, "Aren't you just going to take my memory instead?"

I feel the pressure leave my bed. I glance around to see him standing by the door, glasses glinting in the lamplight.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Claire. I love you."

I'm silent. I try not to register the hurt look on Dad's face as he shuts the door.

As soon as he's downstairs, I dial Peter's number, grabbing my cheerleading bag at the same time.

He picks up on the second ring.

"_Hello, Claire?"_

"Peter, I can't stay here anymore," I say with resolution. I'm stuffing clothes into the bag. Passport, money. "Mom's sick. It's Dad's fault. He had her memory wiped too many times. I told him…he knows I haven't forgotten."

"_Whoah, slow down." _Just hearing his voice makes me feel better, calmer. _"What are you saying, Claire?"_

"That it's too dangerous for me here." My hand pauses over my collection of stuffed bears, one for every place dad visited on his 'business trips.' I pick up my oldest one, my first bear, and throw it into the bag.

"I need to stay somewhere…somewhere safe." I trail off, not wanting to ask outright but knowing it was the only logical choice.

Peter sighs down the phone. I can picture him ruffling his hair as his thinks the request over. _"I don't know, Claire. I'd be aiding and abetting a minor, as well as living with one. That's all kinds of illegal right there."_

Ever the moral straight line. I roll my eyes. "It's not like I'm going to jump you," I joke, but regret saying it because, really, I _would_ like to jump him, very much so. I blush, glad he can't see.

"_Claire,_" he admonishes lightly, _"you know that's not the issue."_ If only he knew.

"I don't take up much room," I plead. "I'll stay out of your way."

"_You know you're never in the way…"_

"Great! So I'll get Zach to drive me to the aiport and I'll get the next flight out." I zip up my bag with a triumphant flourish, smiling in spite of the situation.

"_Wait, Claire. Think about it. Your dad's gonna come looking for you. He'll find out which flight you were on. He'll know where you're going."_

"My parents don't know about you," I assure him, knowing where he was trying to head, "And anyway, you can't teleport me there and back, you know you're not in control of it yet."

"_I'm getting there_." He argues half-heartedly, but I know I've won the battle.

"You don't know how much this means to me." I grin down the phone like Peter can see. "I'll call you when I know the times of the flight, ok?"

"_Ok, but Claire? Stay safe. That guy who tried to kill you could still be out there."_

"I will," I say quietly.

We say our goodbyes. He hangs up first. I message Zach asking him to pick me up at 2am.

_**FILMSBYZACH: **__WTF? Why that late? Rendezvous with a bf?_

_**CLAIREBEAR: **__No. Airport. Need to leave town._

_**FILMSBYZACH: **__Stuff with your dad?_

_**CLAIREBEAR: **__I'll explain in the car. Going to Peter._

_**FILMSBYZACH: **__So it IS your bf then!_

_**CLAIREBEAR: **__He's NOT my bf!! Just pick me up, k?_

_**FILMSBYZACH: **__Whatevs. Totes your bf. Later._

I shake my head, smiling at the screen. Before I log off I delete my conversation history and anything else dad could use to find out where I've gone before I get there.

Now I just have to sit and wait. I'm not scared though. I'll be with Peter soon. Despite the danger of the situation, my smile grows wider.


	7. Decisions

**A.N: **Hello! Here's the next update from me. I'm sorry I haven't updated sooner. Lot of things have been going in real-life lately and I haven't had the time or motiviation to write, but thankfully things are changing for the better and I'm getting back into the swing of things :) Thanks as always to my beta, WinterSapphire 33333

**Warnings/Spoilers: **You're safe if you're half-way through S4, just to be sure. Potential romantic scenes between an adult and a minor.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Heroes or The Time Traveler's Wife. I'm just meddling around in their universes to make this story :)

Enjoy!

_

* * *

_

Monday, 23rd October 2006. Peter is 25.

---

Peter

I hesitate before entering my brother's campaign office. I could have explained things a lot easier on the phone, but I knew that I'd just be avoiding the inevitable.

My brother works diligently into the evening, all riled up these days with his campaign and making sure everything is perfect. He has a group of aides helping him organise everything, and lackeys helping them and everything, as per usual with Nathan, runs smoothly as clockwork. He even has lawyers on hand, and a 'damage control' team able to clean up any messes he (or the family) gets into almost immediately.

I have a feeling that this will be something that damage control gets to hear about.

Nathan is talking to a pretty, brunette woman with a clipboard as I walk in, glances up in surprise that I'm there, and indicates I have to wait. That's fine with me, I have to try and decide the best way to word what I have to say.

_"…Nathan, remember that girl from Texas? The one I saved? Well, she's coming to stay for a while, her school's signed up to some project which means she's transferring to New York and she has nowhere to go…"_

A 'while' because I don't know exactly how long Claire will stay for, or if she'll be able to go back afterwards. Or if her terrifying father won't just drag her back straight away anyway.

_"…Nathan, remember that girl from Texas? Well, her dad's turned out to be a psychopath and works for a Company that hunts people that have abilities...Oh, and she's also on the run from a serial killer who takes people's powers, tried to kill her and killed me, but I regenerated."_

I sigh, defeated. This isn't going to be easy. My brother barely accepts he can fly and I have powers, and he definitely won't accept the truth, but either way, with a 16 year old girl coming to stay at my apartment I won't be his favourite person today.

I see him walking over to me. This is the moment of truth.

"Pete, come on through." He smiles, claps me on the shoulder, and gestures me to follow him.

I grimace, trying to remain cool. He has no idea what I'm about to tell him...

We enter his office, Nathan moving immediately to the drinks cabinet.

"A little early, isn't it?"

My brother simply smiles in that 'what can I say?' way of his and pours himself a scotch. "Want one?"

I shake my head, wanting to get straight to the point, "Nate, look, I need to tell you something..."

My brother waves his hand in the air, moving towards his desk. "If this has anything to do with what happened in Texas two weeks ago, I don't want to know, Pete. It's over; we managed to deal with it. And hopefully you got that hero business out of your system."

He gives me a pointed look, sitting behind the desk and downing the scotch in one. I scratch the back of my neck. "Nathan, look..."

"Oh, God," my brother interrupts me, "I know that face. I'm going to need another scotch, aren't I?"

"It's not as bad as you think!" I protest, when, actually, what part of helping a minor to cross state lines to get away from a serial killer and her crazy dad _isn't_ bad? "It's Claire..."

Nathan groans, "That damn girl again! Peter, you've cost me enough chasing some girl halfway across the country –"

"She's not just 'some girl', okay?" My voice gets louder, I know that all Nathan's assistants and aides will be stopping in their work to get a better listen right now, "She's...she's different. She needs my help. And not everything is about _you_, you know."

"I don't believe this..." Nathan leans back in his chair, hands folding together. He's looking at me like I've grown another head. There's a long pause and then, in a low voice, he asks, "You've got...feelings for this girl, haven't you?"

"_What_?" His suggestion is incredulous, though I know how it must look to someone who has no clue, like my brother, "That is just...Nathan, believe me, I don't. She just needs somewhere to stay for a while, so I've said she can stay with me."

I'm telling the truth. I've never, I mean, I haven't thought of Claire like that. She's sixteen, for God's sake. It wouldn't be right. It just wouldn't.

"Oh, great, so she's living with you now? Do you have _any_ idea how this is going to look for me? I'll have _"Prospective Senator's brother caught in illicit affair with a minor"_ splashed all over the papers. The election is in a fortnight, I can't deal with any more of your screw-ups right now." My brother's standing up now, fists down on the surface of the desk. He reminds me of dad, of all the times I had to go into the den and explain myself to him, when I had to sit and listen to how disappointed he was in me, how he wished I could be more like Nathan, the golden boy.

Well, dad's not here anymore. Nathan can't belittle me. This is much bigger than him.

"She's in danger, Nathan," I hold my head up straight, matching his stare; "There's nothing you can say to make me change my mind. I was told by a man from the future to save the cheerleader and save the world. I bump into this girl by chance, she knows me, then she turns out to be the one I have to save? This isn't random, Nathan, this is destiny. Don't you see? Something's going to happen, and we're all connected in this, you, me, everyone." I know talking about our powers isn't really a good way to try and get him to see things from my point of view, but I have to try.

My brother only scoffs, turning away from me, "Destiny. You're deluded, Peter." He walks past me and opens the door, "Leave. I don't care what you do anymore; just don't expect me to clean this up when it gets messy. I'm not your keeper."

I set my mouth into a grim line. This is as close to acceptance as I'll ever get. "You'll see. Something's going to happen, Nathan. This all means something."

"Yeah, it means you're crazy." His words are harsh, but his expression has softened. Maybe I have gotten through to him a little after all. "Go on, Pete. I have work to do. One of us in this family has to at least give off the air of normality."

I don't hug him, just clap him on the shoulder and make my way out of the building. As I leave, it feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, but a new, heavier feeling appears in my gut. To be honest, I don't know what any of this means, the powers, Claire, the strange man from the future, nothing. I just know _something_ is going to happen, and I'm not entirely sure if it's a good thing.

But I can't dwell, Claire arrives tomorrow and I need to make sure the apartment is in order. Things are about to get interesting.

---

_Saturday 19th June, 2010. Claire is 20, Peter is 29._

---

_~"Old age is just around the bend, I can wait to go grey._

_This is the sound of settling..."~_

---

Claire

The party's in full swing, the champagne is flowing, and I'm...married. I have to pinch myself because it still doesn't feel real. The gold band around my finger means I'm married to Peter, and I feel as though I haven't stopped grinning since I left the church.

As much as I hate to admit it, Angela's outdone herself on the reception. The room is gorgeous, the decorations are classy and the food is delicious. Zach is milling around, snapping photos and getting in the actual photographer's way. My mother seems to start crying whenever she sees me, and my dad's had to stop my brother from trying to get served at the bar three times. (If_ I_ can't even drink legally yet, there's no way in hell he's getting away with it.) Nathan's speech lasted fifteen minutes and twenty-five seconds (Hiro won the betting money) and thoroughly managed to embarrass Peter completely, as well as giving me plenty of ammunition when it comes to blackmail in the future. All in all, it's a good night.

Well, it would be a good night if I could find my husband. My eyes narrow as I scour the area, finally spotting him talking with Nathan in a corner of the room. They both look furtive; Peter seems to be getting angrier by the minute. I bite my lip; they fight all the time, this is nothing different, right?

But somehow I don't think this is just a typical Petrelli argument.

---

Peter

"Look, Pete, just two seconds, let me explain –"

I roll my eyes. I'm fed up of this conversation already. Nathan always wants something, and he nearly always guilt-trips me into doing it. I'm his brother, he needs me, I'm important to him. I've heard it all before.

"Nathan, it's my _wedding day_," I emphasise, "Can't you give it a break for just one day?"

My brother harrumphs, folding his arms and looking offended, "You don't know what I'm going to say."

I sigh. I'm going to regret this, I know. But I can't refuse him. "Humour me."

Nathan immediately brightens up, drawing me closer and placing a hand on my shoulder, "The reason I had trouble getting here today...there's a new federal agency being drawn up. Partly my idea, partly an amalgamation of things people have been discussing recently. And I want you to help."

My eyebrows rise when he stops talking. I glance over to the table I'm supposed to be sitting at, past the throng of dancing people. Claire is busy talking to Gretchen, who's taken my seat. She looks beautiful and happy; I'm not going to let Nathan ruin that with one of his schemes.

"Whatever it is, no," I confirm as he begins to open his mouth again. "I'm happy with the job I have. I don't want to be roped into anything remotely morally grey."

"Who says it's going to be morally grey?" Again, my brother looks offended, "Geez, Pete, what do you think I am, a Mafia boss? No, it's..." He looks around, lowering his voice so people can't hear us, not that I know why he's bothering; the music is loud enough, "Remember that disaster I had with Homeland Security?"

I nod; how could I forget? Just after Nathan got elected, there was a huge scandal surrounding Homeland Security and the false detainment and torture of a group of people who had abilities, all of whom were apparently on the 'danger' list. It turned out none of them actually were, and four people died in containment. Homeland Security were accused of deliberately targeting specials and detaining them for no reason, and specials began to turn on Nathan, thinking he was betraying his own kind. It wasn't a pretty mess to clean up.

"Well...we've decided to make sure that never happens again. A company is being formed...not _the_ Company. Just an organisation that is independent, secret, has people inside it that know who is actually a danger and who isn't...and people like us who have the means to stop them."

I blink twice, not quite believing what's coming out of his mouth, "Are you asking me to join a secret organisation targeting specials? To become like...like the people that used to hunt _us_?"

"No! Of course not," My brother reassures me, laughing nervously, "...I'm asking you _and_ Claire."

Claire. I glance over to her again. This time she's looking at me worriedly. I think back to what I witnessed today and I shake my head, not taking my eyes off my bride, "No way, Nathan. Not a chance."

"But why? Come on, Pete. You're the most powerful one we've got...and Claire can't get hurt! Where's the harm?"

He flashes a grin at me, patting my arm. I bat him away in annoyance, feeling agitated. "I said no. From both of us."

"Claire hasn't even had the chance to consider it," Nathan's still grinning at me, but turning away towards the head table, "I'll just go and –"

"_No_," I answer roughly, pulling him back by his jacket a little harsher than I planned to. From the corner of my eye Claire gets up from her chair. She's walking towards us. I take a deep breath in and whisper in my brother's ear.

"I saw a future today. Mine and Claire's. We were happy... she was pregnant." I sigh, letting him and his expensive suit go, "I'm not going to jeopardise that future. I'm sorry."

Nathan nods at me in understanding, even as he smoothes out the creases of his suit, "This is Armani, Pete. Be a little gentler next time."

Claire reaches us just as we start to laugh, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

I grin lopsidedly at her, "Nothing, nothing at all." I hold out my arm to her, "Shall we dance?"

"Honestly." She rolls her eyes at Nathan. "You two never change."

I share a look with my brother as I escort Claire to the dance-floor. Why do I have the feeling this new 'Company' will only lead to bad things?

---

_Tuesday 24th October 2006. (Claire is 16, Peter is 25.)_

---

_~ "Leave all your love and your loving behind you,_

_Can't carry it with you if you want to survive."~_

---

Claire

I lug my bag over my shoulder as we finally step off the plane and make our way to the arrivals lounge. I've been flying on and off for about eight hours, and if it wasn't for my ability, I think I'd be suffering from the lack of sleep. Add onto that the fact that I'm so scared someone will recognise me, or my dad will show up, or the Haitian will and whisk me back to Texas to get my memory wiped and I really haven't had a good journey.

I walk straight past the baggage reclaim – I carried everything I wanted in my hand-luggage – and down the corridor to where people would no doubt be waiting for their loved ones. I tighten my grip on my bag; what if Peter isn't there?

Rounding the corner, I try and find him amongst the crowd of people, but I can't see him. My heart sinks. He promised he'd be here. But, God, what if my dad's got to him too? Fear rises in my chest, and suddenly the gravity of my situation, a girl all alone in New York City, hits me, and I feel claustrophobic.

"Claire, _Claire_, over here!"

I whirl around and Peter's suddenly standing in front of me, grinning crookedly and holding an 'I 'heart' NY' bear in one hand. I can't help it; I run towards him and fling my arms around his neck.

"You have _no_ idea how happy I am to see you," I exclaim, hugging him tightly. I know this is probably inappropriate, I know people will be raising eyebrows, and I know I swore to myself I'd stop this silly crush on Peter after what happened with his future self at my birthday...but I don't care. After everything I've been through, having Peter's arms around me is the only thing that's making me feel safe.

He returns my embrace, before pulling back and looking me in the eyes. He looks like he hasn't been sleeping. "I was worried about you."

Just that one sentence makes my insides turn to butterflies, "You... you were?" I hope I'm not blushing. Don't blush you _idiot_. I cough, "I mean, you don't have to. I can heal, remember."

"I know," Peter runs his free hand through his hair, "Doesn't mean I'm going to stop. Oh," He holds out the bear and I take him, smiling, "I just thought...well, you...like bears. You told me the other day that you collect them."

He's almost stumbling over his words, and I'd call this an awkward moment if I didn't feel so elated to be with him. I laugh and hold the bear to me. "He's lovely, Peter, thank you." I place a hand on his arm. Suddenly, the mood changes again and he freezes under my touch.

I cough and remove my hand. He scratches the back of his neck, "Erm, want me to take your bag?"

I nod and we spend the rest of the walk to the car in silence, as well as most of the car journey. Throughout it all I'm replaying the events of the past few weeks in my head, trying to make sense of it all. Nothing seems real. Though, I suppose, I should have known my life would end up complicated as soon as Peter literally fell into it.

Which reminds me...

"Peter, how did you know you had to save me at Homecoming?"

His gaze flickers over to me from where he's watching the road, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "A man from the future stopped time on the subway and told me I had to save you."

I almost laugh. A man from the future; it sounded like my entire life in five minutes.

"That," he glances over to me properly as we get stuck in traffic lights, "and I met a guy who could paint the future... it showed what would happen if I didn't save you... it showed I would die trying to save you."

The car is silent again as I digest this information. A small tear trickles down my cheek, "So... you came to save me, even though you knew you were going to die? You didn't know I could heal?"

"I had no idea." There's that lopsided smile again, the one that makes me feel all warm inside, "But I couldn't... I mean, I couldn't just let it happen."

We must be at his apartment now because we're turning into a car park. Peter parks up and the engine stops running and, suddenly, it's awfully quiet.

"Why did you do that?" I ask finally, in a small voice.

"To save the world," is his reply. Peter looks as though he wants to say something else, like he's battling with himself. Finally, he continues, "And you're important... to me, Claire."

More tears trickle down my cheeks, and at the same time, my heart hurts in such a strange way. Maybe it's because I know how I feel about Peter... and I know how he's never going to feel the same way. One day, he'll get married to someone, and she'll be the luckiest girl alive. All I know is that that girl won't be me.

"Thank you," I murmur and Peter smiles, grasping one of my hands.

"It's nothing."

There's another pause but this time it's not awkward, until finally Peter clears his throat and says, "So, shall I give you a grand tour around the apartment?"

I smile and nod, and we exit the car and make our way to his apartment. It's small and sparsely furnished, but I can see he's made an effort to tidy it up for my arrival. I'm touched.

Peter stands to one side as I take in my new surroundings, as if waiting my approval.

"It's a really nice place," I assure him, placing my bag down on the sofa where I assume I'll be sleeping.

"I'm glad you think so," he smiles and leans against the doorframe, "Look, I've got to run out and pick up a few things I'd forgotten that you might need. I won't be long. Are you going to be ok on your own? I'll lock the door before I go."

I panic for a moment, then calm myself down. Of course I'll be ok. It's not like anyone's going to find me here. So I nod, reassuring him, and he smiles and heads back out the door.

I sigh, collapsing onto the sofa, finding the remote and beginning to flick around the channels. My eyes feel heavy, my whole body feels heavy. And even though I can heal, I can feel exhaustion taking over me.

But I'm safe now; I'm with Peter... everything's going to be alright...


End file.
